


The Subjective Truth

by specialdestiny



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Gen, MSR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 23:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialdestiny/pseuds/specialdestiny
Summary: How could she ever believe there could be anyone else?





	The Subjective Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little oneshot fluff piece of Mulder's thoughts during that snuggling (and then sex) scene in Plus One.

"What if you meet someone?" 

She asks it with the sort of vulnerable sincerity he was no stranger to, yet somehow it always sent a shiver down his spine when he was trusted with such an intimate glance into Scully's psyche. Her fears and her concerns. They'd seen so much together, been through so many things -- it shouldn't surprise him at this point, but it still did. She was the strongest person he knew, being reminded that she wasn't completely bulletproof never ceased to awe him; To do as Scully herself had done on countless occasions, and bring him crashing down to Earth, into the harsh light of reality and reason. 

She speaks further, and he replies, trying not to give any sort of indication of the turmoil she's incited within him. How could he answer her sincerely, when he's only just now realizing that he's lived all this time under the unconscious assumption that she was it. They were it. They'd always be together, until the bitter end -- sure there were always twists, turns and bumps along the road, but all roads had a destination, and his always seemed to be leading straight to her. How could he answer her with the raw and guttural honesty he felt deep within when his mind was still spinning over the question? How could she ever begin to believe that anyone else could compare? That his wasted heart could ever desire, much less belong, to anyone else? As he laid there, tightening his arms around her, rattling off replies to lighten the mood and comfort her, as if he weren't tormented by these revelations of her doubts, he takes a moment to pause. To breathe in the deep scent of her hair -- no matter the products she uses, it's always smelled the same to him; like cinnamon and clover; a scent he's come to adore -- his eyes close as he lets her give further voice to her fears. He can no longer remember the definitive moment when he knew he loved her, and perhaps there was no one singular moment. Rather, it was a collection of them. Every time she rebutted his theories with hard facts, each instance of her refusing to let him give in to his wildest instincts. Even now he could fondly recall the irritation he felt when she was proven right, and how it somehow was more satisfying than the moments when he could see all her truths being questioned when he was the one to be proven right. He remembered her faith, and how it was something he'd never been able to understand, but always wished to. He remembered her integrity and her dedication to science and medicine, her resolve to never stop looking for answers she could prove. He remembered so many things. He remembered her honesty, and her warmth, and compassion. He recalled the times when it was she, not he, who kept the fight going. That never ending search for the truth that had never been her struggle, somehow became their struggle -- and even through the most devastating of consequences, she never gave up. Even when he did. She completed him, really -- if such counterbalances truly existed. Whatever merit there was in the idea and notion of soulmates, he knew Dana Scully was his. And to have her back here, in his arms and in his life, he's left to wonder what had ever been so impossible to overcome that he could've let her go. 

To imagine she could ever fathom an ending to their story where he would choose to be with another gripped his heart with a steely cold vice grip that would make even the hardest of hearts shatter. Even if she were to walk out of his life forever right now, right here, leaving him with nothing more than memories and haunted dreams, he'd never be able to move on. And if he couldn't imagine a life of love without her, how then was he ever expected to have a family without her? There were no words for a moment like this one. No response that was enough. But when she turned to face him, he wondered if she could see the truth in his eyes, like she'd always been able to do. If she could see the front he put up for her sake for what it was. He wished he could tell her the truth -- wished it wouldn't sour what they were rebuilding. Wished that his silent hope that she could somehow just _know_ the intricacies of his need for her, and how no amount of time could, or had, diminished it. And as he brushed the hair from her face, feeling the weight of the moment dragging him nearer to her, like some magnet whose only attracting force was his very soul, and his lips found hers in what could have been little more than a chaste kiss, he was exposed. His secrets were no match for the immense power of her kiss -- it was like all at once he was stripped bare, his soul hers to keep or discard, as it had always been. Reason and logic lost their meager meaning to him as he pressed on with the embrace, desperate hands finding a familiar home at her waist, as he surrendered himself to his love for her.

And by some miracle, and despite his undeserving existence, she returned the passion with equal hunger. He had always known she was the one. She always would be the one, and though her doubts stung at him, would she truly be the Scully he loved if she did not have them? If caution didn't dictate her every step and choice? And if she were to completely dismiss and abandon her doubting nature, would he love her any less?

The answer was one he knew with a resolute certainty: there was no force in Earth, Heaven. Hell or beyond that could ever stop him from loving Dana Scully.


End file.
